


Penance

by Jenni_Snake



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Humor, M/M, Restaurants, Seven Deadly Sins, Seven Heavenly Virtues, Slice of Life, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenni_Snake/pseuds/Jenni_Snake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann challenges Newt's annoyingness via the Seven Deadly Sins, determined to prove that he runs afoul of every single one. Newt is determined to prove him wrong. Somewhere along the line they find themselves growing closer, and one accusation is conspicuously absent.</p><p>  <i>For gluttony, temperance (or: Newt Gets Cookies);</i><br/><i>For sloth, diligence (or: Newt Forgets to Do His Homework);</i><br/><i>For vanity, humility (or: Newt Gets Punched);</i><br/><i>For greed, charity (or: Newt Gets Less Judgemental);</i><br/><i>For envy, patience (or: Newt Gets to Go Stargazing);</i><br/><i>For wrath, kindness (or: Newt Gets Angry);</i><br/><i>For lust...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Annoyance

The music coming from the lab could be felt even before the door was opened.

"Would you shut off that infernal racket?" Hermann yelled.

"What?!"

"Your so-called music is making this lab a living hell!"

Newt gestured to his ears that he couldn't hear. Not wanting to see him touch anything with his slimy gloves, Hermann resisted shoving the speakers to the ground, instead pulling the plug from the wall. Without missing a beat, Newt piped up:

"Hey! I was listening to that!"

Hermann glared.

"You are as annoying as sin," he said.

"What?" Newt said. "What? No! No no no no - wait! No - no way. Wait! What did you just say?"

"I said that you are as annoying as sin."

"Yeah, that's what I thought you said."

Hermann sat himself down in front of a computer in the silence interrupted only by the squish of biological matter and the low hum of electronics. It lasted only an instant.

"I'm not!" Newt exclaimed with a gesture in Hermann's direction, which inadvertently made him toss an unidentifiable blob onto the computer screen. "Shit! I'm sorry! I'll get that..."

He rubbed at the mess with the elbow of his shirt, smearing it across the screen, as he carried on.

"But I'm not, you know. That annoying. I mean you've only worked with me a year. No! Don't raise your eyebrow at me like that! Oh, sorry..."

With pursed lips, Hermann wiped a piece of viscera from his face that had landed when Newt had pointed at him.

"So," Newt said weakly in conclusion, "I'm totally not. Say, you like math and stuff, so I'll, like, you know, I'll prove it!"  
Hermann's eyebrow arched a bit further.

"Good luck."

"Thanks!" Newt said, then cringed, and went right back to work.

 


	2. Gluttony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For gluttony, temperance._

Pen in hand, his eyes fixed on a print out of data, Newt pulled his other hand out of a bag of Doritos, licked his fingers and wiped them on his jeans. He had sifted through nearly a hundred pages so far and there was still twice that left, and he'd only found an insignificant number of points that were of any interest. Still crunching a mouthful loudly, he flipped a page and shoveled around in the bag again for crumbs. Engrossed, he hadn't heard Hermann walk in, and only saw him as he poked at the last bag of chips with his cane.

“Hey, hands off, that's my lunch!”

“And from the looks of it,” Hermann said, pointing to a mess of colourful junk food wrappers, “that was your breakfast, that your midnight snack, and that pile stacked high enough to feed an army must have been your dinner.”

Newt rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, holding the papers above him and trying to ignore Hermann.

“I have to eat something, don't I?”

“Not in such copious quantities. Besides, your chewing can be heard down the corridor.”

Newt threw his hands in the air.

“Oh, come on! What are you now, my personal trainer? What is this really about?"

“Strike one: gluttony. _Quod erat demonstrandum_ ,” Hermann said, jabbing Newt in the stomach with the end of his cane. Newt spread his hands and laughed uncomprehendingly.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You have proven yourself to be as annoying as sin once again. This time it's gluttony."

After a few blinks, the context dawned on Newt.

"Are you kidding me? That was like six months ago we were talking about that!”

"Yes, and I have been restrained enough not to mention five separate occasions prior to this one."

"Oh, well that's _very_ kind of you!" Newt mocked. "Why is this time special?"

“After the first blush of sin comes its indifference.”

“What?!”

“Thoreau.”

Newt blinked again, took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes like he was trying to massage information from his brain, and shoved them back on.

“Like the author? Who quotes authors anymore?! Soon it'll be whole tracts of Shakespeare..."

"Goethe," Hermann interjected.

"You’re crazy.”

“But I’m right.”

“Sure. Fine. Whatever. You want a chip?”

Hermann only raised an eyebrow at him, so Newt popped it into his mouth, shaking his head.

"Should've known you were a bigger jerk in real life than on paper," he said, pointing at Hermann. "You were never this bad in your letters..."

"And I should have known by the grease stains on yours..."

Hermann didn't finish his thought, and just walked away.

***

The food in the mess hall was nothing to write home about, unless it was to complain. While most people approached meal time with all the enthusiasm of a chain gang, Newt seemed almost as keen to dissect his daily meals as he was to dissect kaiju specimens. It gave him a chance to extol the virtues of his mother’s cooking to as wide an audience as possible, regardless of whether they were actually listening or not. Hermann had no choice, even though sometimes he simply stared at Newt marvelling at the fact that he could watch his mouth move and still not really hear him.

So it was a bit odd when Newt sat down across from Hermann for lunch in silence, guilt written across his face, his tray half-empty. There was a conspicuous ball of tinfoil in one of the compartments on the tray, about the size of a tennis ball. It had obviously been used to wrap something much larger than what it currently contained, but it was folded over as neatly as possible and with evident care. Newt glanced at Hermann, back at his tray, and wiped his palms on his thighs. As if it were holding something delicate and fragile, Newt lifted the package off his tray and placed it gingerly next to Hermann’s. A few nearby conversations stopped, waiting to be interrupted as usual, and started up again gratefully when they weren’t.

“So…” Newt said quietly, “my mom sent me a dozen hamentaschen. Only I kind of forgot that she said to save you some until…”

He scratched his temple and gestured weakly at the shiny package with a shrug.

“I mean, I did save you one, at least.”

Hermann stared impassively at the ball of tinfoil.

“She sent them in two batches,” said Newt excitedly, “just in case one didn’t get here. So I’ll totally save the next one for you!”

“Thank you,” Hermann said, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Encouraged, Newt beamed back at him with new found energy and picked up his fork to attack what little there was of his meal.

“Oh!” he said with his mouth full, “and I'll make sure I get you a box of matzo crackers next month. It’ll make the mess food taste like a dream!”

 


	3. Sloth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For sloth, diligence._

With the Jack of Spades in one hand, the Ace of Hearts in the other, Newt turned to his laptop when it binged.

“Hermann,” he called across the room, placing the cards together on the five-level structure before him and picking up two more, “I’m in the same room as you, you don’t have to e-mail me.”

“I didn't want to disturb your... endeavours," Hermann said, still focussed on his own terminal.

Newt set the last two cards delicately at the peak of the house and stepped back, triumphant. Hands on hips, he admired his work.

“What’s your e-mail about?”

“Why don’t you just read it?”

“Why don’t you just tell me?”

Hermann let out an audible sigh.

“Departmental reports are due at the end of the week.”

“Dude,” Newt said, offended, “I know! You’ve already told me like ten times!”

“Yes,” Hermann mumbled, “I know I have.”

Two days later, as he walked into the lab, Newt called out for him.

“Hermann! Hermann! I need your help!”

As fast as he could, he stumbled across the room. Newt thrust his hands towards him, frowning at the piece of yarn strung between his fingers. Hermann’s panic disappeared, replaced by ire.

“Cat’s cradle?”

“Yeah, just pick it up here and here,” Newt said, pointing with his nose.

Hermann contemplated the situation, hooked his cane on the edge of the desk, picked something up and turned back to Newt.

With a pair of scissors he cut through the yarn.

“Hey!”

“You only have two days left.”

They next day was no better. Newt didn’t even look away from the game console he was holding above his head when Hermann walked into the lab. Music and sounds blipped from the game, and there was a half-finished sudoku puzzle under his foot and a barely-started New York Times Wednesday crossword puzzle next to his elbow.

"I know, I know, they're due tomorrow,” Newt said, still playing, but before Hermann said anything. “And you can stop doing that clicking thing with your tongue, it's really annoying."

"Those reports are not going to write themselves," Hermann said taking a seat and starting on his own immaculately arranged folder of reports.

"So they'll be a bit late, whatever."

Hermann drew in a deep breath, eyes closed, then let it out slowly.

"Sloth."

"Huh?" said Newt, still playing. "Sloths? You mean three-toed? Tree? _Florivora_ \- that means they eat leaves."

"I know what it means. What I meant was laziness. Specifically: yours.”

Newt laughed, unfazed.

“That sin thing again? What are you, Hermann, some sort of medieval-monk-anti-demon-dude come to cleanse the world of sin?”

“That's not the point.”

“Then what _is_ the point?”

“The point is… well, I suppose the point is that the Seven Deadly Sins were devised, in essence, as a focus for personal flaws, and that, by meditating on them, one could strive to overcome them in one’s lifetime.”

“Thanks, Dante, but see, I just don’t buy that. That’s stupid. I mean, it doesn’t take into account a million things - like maybe someone’s not lazy, maybe they’re just stressed because reports are stupid and long, but they’ll get around to them eventually if people would just stop breathing down their neck.”

“Samuel Johnson said that 'What we hope ever to do with ease we must first learn through diligence.'"

Newt finally put down his game and laughed.

"Seriously, dude! You and your quotes! What do you do, go back to your quarters and memorize them, just in case?"

Hermann carried on unperturbed.

"Tasks seem daunting and difficult if you've never done them before, although I have trouble believing you've never submitted a report in the three years we've been here.”

“I just have a bit of a backlog that's all,” Newt said sheepishly, pushing away a rather thick file folder. “But if you like writing reports so much, I’ll give you mine.”

“That’s not the point. We are all _required_ to do them, no one _enjoys_ doing them.”

“You know what's worse? I bet nobody even reads them.”

“Well, read or not, they’re due in to the Marshal at oh-six-hundred-hours tomorrow morning.”

“That’s not even a real time,” Newt whined, and picked up his game again.

Hermann focussed on his file, eventually tuning out the sound of Newt’s distracting game, and fell into his work. His eyes started to feel dry behind his large reading-glasses around lunchtime, but he wasn’t hungry, and decided to work through it. As he took a stretch to alleviate the pain in his hip, he noticed that Newt was no longer in the room, though he hadn’t noticed when he had left. When he finally finished his report in the early evening, he noted that Newt was still gone, but shrugged it off and went to find something to eat.

The next morning, he headed to the lab early so that he could turn his paperwork in on time, and wasn’t surprised to find it empty. Grabbing his folder, he shook his head and headed in the direction of Newt’s quarters, almost relishing being able to wake him to scold him for missing his deadline.

Just as he was about to raise his cane to bang on the metal door, Hermann noticed it was ajar. Curiosity overtook him, and he pushed it silently open.

Inside, he found Newt asleep in a chair, face squashed flat against his desk, glasses askew. One hand still held a pen and was draped over a file that was thick enough to be carrying at least six months worth of reporting. Hermann gently eased it out from underneath Newt so as not to disturb him, and flipped through it. Every single piece of paperwork was diligently completed and signed. He closed it again, stacking it with his own file so he could submit them both.

Just before he left he pulled a blanket off of Newt’s bed and draped it over him. Slowly and carefully he eased Newt’s glasses off, folded them, and placed them on the desk. He brushed his fingers through Newt’s hair, and rested them at the back of his neck just slightly longer than was collegial. Then he headed to the Marshal’s office, quietly pulling the door shut behind him.


	4. Pride (Vanity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For vanity, humility._

Another year, another Shatterdome. Los Angeles, at least, wasn't as cold as Alaska, but, ironically, the people weren’t as warm. It wasn’t going to deter Newt, however, and he tried his best to strike up conversation when and where he could. Hermann had tried to convince him that it wasn’t worth it and he should keep a low profile. He had even taken to venturing to the mess hall slightly later than most and just bringing his tray awkwardly back to the lab, but Newt hadn’t followed suit. Between running experiments, and logging and preparing new kaiju samples, he didn’t get much of a chance to get to the mess early, if at all, but he took every chance he got.

Since he never much cared what was slopped onto his tray, he had plenty of time to talk to anyone who was willing, or even unwilling to listen. Sliding his tray down the line, he rolled up his sleeves, showing off his vivid tattoos, and launching into to conversation about them to the woman in front of him.

“Now that little guy there,” he said, pointing to his right arm, “that took about four hours. Hurt like hell!”

The woman cast a glance around as if looking to see if Newt could possibly be talking to anyone else, and realising she was the only one nearby, scowled and tried to ignore him.

“It was worse towards the end, you know, because you’ve been there forever with needles scratching at your skin and it just feels like it’s never going to end, you know?”

Newt didn’t notice when he missed his tray with the roll he just took and it landed on the floor. The woman in front of him did, and she smirked and pushed a strand of hair behind her head. Unfortunately for her, Newt took it as a sign that she was acknowledging his story, and he smiled back and carried on.

“But then when it heals,” he was saying, “wow, it’s just amazing and, well, I mean you see this, right? The skill it takes to get it just right, so it doesn’t leak around the edges and doesn’t fade, well, I mean, there aren’t a lot of artists who could do that. And, well, to be honest, there aren’t a lot of artists who are willing to ink kaiju, but this guy was awesome.”

As he got more into his story, he started paying less attention to his audience. Had he been more aware, he would have seen the dark-haired woman bristle. As it was, he continued in the same vein.

“And Reckoner,” said Newt, uselessly naming the beast whose name everyone already knew, “well, he was just a baby! Category I, nothing like the III’s, weak little thing. I mean, look at him, he looks like a turtle…”

Had he been paying attention to the woman he was talking at, he would have noticed her lips pursing, her nostrils flaring, and her hands clenching and unclenching. And he probably would have chosen his next words more carefully.

“I mean, he was kind of harmless. Almost cute…”

If he had been paying attention to the signs, he would have seen it coming. As it was, the pilot’s right hook took him completely by surprise.

***

“I think it’s broken!” Newt whined as Hermann placed a new towel and pack of ice over his eye.

“Hold still,” Hermann said, “it’s not broken, it’s fine. Well, relatively. What had you said, anyway?”

“Nothing!” he said, then reconsidered, catching Hermann’s accusatory look. “Really it was… I mean, how was I supposed to know she had family in Hong Kong?”

Hermann merely sighed.

“But seriously,” said Newt, slightly more subdued, “we vilify them, but they’re just, I don’t know, beasts I guess, they’re just acting on instinct. It’s not their fault they’ve got this weird gap in their universe and they end up here. Maybe they’re lost and scared. And then we kill them.”

Gingerly, Hermann removed the ice pack and wrung the towel out over a bowl, but reserved comment.

“Yeah, I know,” Newt muttered, “everyone thinks I’m ridiculous.”

“Newton…” Hermann said, trying to reassure him, but not knowing how to finish. Instead he brushed Newt’s tattoo with his fingers.

“I’m sure there are those who think the artwork quite beautiful…”

Newt raised his eyebrows and gave Hermann a searching look. Hermann continued as if he hadn’t noticed.

“But, perhaps in deference to humility, it would behoove you to keep them covered up. Outside of the lab, that is.”

Newt looked surprised and smiled, and Hermann just blushed.

“In here you’re free to do what you like,” he said. “Well, provided it is within reason. And remains on your side of the lab, of course.”


	5. Greed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For greed, charity._

The sun seeped out from behind the edge of the dark cloud above the city, making the drizzle sparkle. Newt hunched his shoulders, hands shoved deep in his pockets as they stepped into a small Vietnamese restaurant in new-North Sydney. Hermann brushed the droplets from his raincoat, then handed it to Newt who hung it with his own jacket on the coat hook by the door.

The ceiling-high mirrors along one wall made the cramped area seem larger, and they took a seat by the window. Newt peeked inside the menu to check that they had what he wanted, while Hermann looked at it down his nose, poring over each page.

“Do you even know you do that?” Newt asked.

“Sorry?” Hermann said, not looking up from his spot on the menu.

“That,” Newt said with a grin, pointing at him, “that thing you’re doing right now. You peer at every page - and seriously, you should really put on your glasses - and then when you’re done looking at the whole thing from back to front, you order the same thing. Every time.”

Hermann closed the menu and put it on the table, giving Newt a questioning look.

“Every time: for Vietnamese it’s rice noodles with spring rolls and pork. For Chinese, it’s chicken with black bean sauce and a bowl of rice. Italian - linguini alle vongole.”

Try as hard as he might not to, Hermann couldn’t help but smile at being called out.

“And - and!” Newt said, “you think I don’t know, but I know - if they don’t have your usual, you order the eighth thing on the menu.”

Hermann moved the paper-wrapped pair of chopsticks on his napkin to the side, and back again.

“Well, not all the time,” he said sheepishly. Newt raised an eyebrow. Hermann blushed as he explained.

“There was that one Korean restaurant that listed fifteen drinks before the menu even started. I was quite hungry, and I didn’t think I could subsist on liquids alone.”

“You’re insane,” Newt told him, laughing.

“There is method to my madness.”

“Like?”

“Well, if I am forced to forgo what I want, it forces me to try something new while leaving it up to random chance. That way I won’t feel disappointed if I choose something myself and end up not liking it.”

“I don’t know what’s weirder,” Newt said, “that, or the fact that it makes some sort of crazy sense.”

“I prefer to be stuck not enjoying something I didn’t choose rather than wishing I were eating anything other than the thing I had chosen.”

“Like cheating on your food in your mind?”

The suggestion took Hermann aback, but the waitress chose that moment to ask if they wanted something to drink, and Newt ordered for both of them, giving hermann a wink that made him roll his eyes over a smile.

A moment later, the waitress came back and placed a fork on each of their napkins with a smile before flitting to the next table. A sour look crossed Newt’s face.

“I hate when they do that,” he complained.

“Do what?” Hermann asked.

“They just assume I need a fork. I didn’t ask for one.”

“Would you prefer,” Hermann said arranging his fork neatly in the middle of his napkin, “that they address you in Vietnamese when you enter as well, just in case you’re fluent and are offended that they don’t try?”

“Oh come on,” Newt sighed, “that’s not the same. Like, seriously, this is just rude.”

“Perhaps from their perspective it’s a matter of politeness, to save people the trouble, or even the embarrassment, of having to ask. I, for one, am grateful.”

Newt’s lips twitched, but Hermann continued.

“You will also note that your choice has not been removed - you are free to use your chopsticks if you so choose.”

“Fine,” Newt said, unwrapping them and rubbing the slivers off of them with each other, “you win this one, Hermann.”

Hermann shrugged, examining his plastic fork.

“If however,” he said, “you would like to gripe about the use of disposable cutlery, you have my full attention...”

It wasn’t long after that the waitress popped back with their dishes. Hermann speared the loose pieces in his bowl inelegantly with his fork, but didn’t complain. Newt drew long strands of noodle out of his soup and piled them into his spoon before dousing them with hot sauce. The sun flashed on the table and then faded as the clouds moved by, and they ate, discussing recent publications, commenting on the food, arguing about whether pop culture deserved the title of culture at all. They complained about co-workers and the new Shatterdome restrictions, and living in barracks, and fell silent as they half-joked that they would spend the rest of their lives living that way.

Hermann left a smattering of noodles, lettuce and shredded carrot in a small puddle in his dish, and Newt dug out the very last bit of soup that he could from the bottom of his bowl. Hermann grabbed his cane and the back of the chair to stand up and fetched their coats while Newt went to the front to pay for their meals. They had agreed years before that, on their outings, Newt would take care of the food to make things easier, and Hermann would cover the cost of anything else, for expediency’s sake.

The watery sunshine glared off of puddles and shop windows, and Newt shifted uncomfortably in his dark jacket in the warm dampness.

“Sunshowers and not tipping are two things I don’t think I’ll ever get used to.”

They headed down the pavement side by side, Newt stepping behind Hermann when it got too narrow, or stepping in front of him and giving him his hand on a particularly difficult or uneven step. They no longer asked or bickered or became embarrassed about any of it, it was just part of how they functioned.

A block before the train station, a young man with bright sneakers and a dark hoodie sat crosslegged on the ground with a used cup in front of him. As they passed by, Hermann stopped to drop some coins in the cup and exchange thanks with the man. Newt stopped to wait for him, but didn’t look back.

“I don’t see why you bother,” he said as Hermann caught up to him.

“Sorry?”

“I mean, his shoes are new, right? He can’t be that badly off.”

“I don’t know his story; it isn’t my place to judge.”

“Still,” Newt countered, agitated, “he’s not going to use it for anything useful, like food. He’s probably just looking for his next hit. He’ll use it to get high, or something.”

“That really isn’t any of my concern.”

“But it’s your money!” said Newt.

“Not anymore. I chose to give it away, he will choose how to use it,” Hermann said, and they both fell silent.

On the platform, Hermann validated their tickets, and the bright tram pulled up not a minute later, doors hissing open on their own. At the end of the empty bench Newt plunked himself down, and Hermann took a seat next to him. There was a high-pitched, electronic whine as the train set off, a sign on the ceiling announcing the next stop in a steady scroll as buildings and bridges rolled by the windows in a blur. Newt was tapping on the seat between his legs, drumming with his palms and fingers parts of the rhythm that was playing in his head. Hermann had his legs crossed in close, but Newt’s legs were spread wide, and his knee leaned against Hermann’s. It was something else they had gotten used to, and had trouble imagining it now any other way.

They reached their stop to switch to their train, and Newt stood up first, letting Hermann grab him at the elbow to stand from the rather low seats. It was a busy interchange, so they had agreed that they would just head to the platform if ever they got separated. Newt let Hermann go ahead of him, and hung back just a bit. Just at the bottom of the stairs to the subway there was often a woman, wrapped in a blanket, who stared sadly at the ground and collected change in a fold of fabric at her lap. Newt flipped a two dollar coin through his fingers in his pocket, not knowing if he wanted the woman to still be there or not. As he bounced down the first few stairs, still keeping Hermann in sight a few people ahead of him, he caught sight of her and swallowed. She had a paltry collection of change, and Newt stooped down to let his coin fall gently on top. She hardly reacted, and he rushed on to catch Hermann, thankful that she hadn’t looked up, not knowing what he would have said if she had.

Their train was right on time. They spent most of the ride back in silence.


	6. Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For envy, patience._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank [cheesecake12](http://cheesecake12.tumblr.com/) for [this bit of art](http://jenni-snake.tumblr.com/post/65280095583/cheesecake12-ok-so-whats-that-one-called) for inspiring the outing in this chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> _(p.s. only in researching for this chapter have I learned anything about stars, so my apologies to actual astronomers)_

The bell on the glass door jingled as they left behind the warm din of the restaurant for the dark, cold evening. Newt rushed to the car over the packed snow without waiting for Hermann, who maneuvered slowly along the clearer parts of the sidewalk. By the time he lowered himself into the passenger’s seat, the car was starting to warm up. Newt was covering the heating vents with his hands between rubbing them, and had the radio loud. Hermann turned it down, then decided to turn it off. It was well within their agreement, so Newt just shrugged.

“Where to?” he asked.

“It’s called the Eagle River Nature Center,” Hermann said, switching on the light and unfolding a large map. Newt laughed at him.

“Seriously? Dude, who uses paper anymore?”

Hermann gave him a withering glare.

“I allowed you to use the GPS to find the restaurant because you complained that you were hungry. But if I have to listen to its tinny, stammering voice for much longer, I promise you, I _will_ go mad.”

“Fair play. So where do we go?”

“Get on to Route 1. Then exit at the Eagle River Loop Road.”

Newt waited for further instructions, but none came.

“That’s it?”

“Yes,” Hermann retorted smugly. “How _did_ we get along without technology?”

“You know,” Newt said as they pulled onto the road, “I’m only doing this because it’s probably just as cold in the Shatterdome as it is outside. It’s not really my idea of fun going out in fourteen degree weather to freeze my balls off and look at a few measly stars. But I know you’re dying to do it.”

“Well, thank you.”

Newt glanced at him, a bit surprised. He betrayed no insincerity.

“You’re welcome.”

They drove along the dark highway in silence, with only the light and sound of the occasional car passing in the other direction.

Even though his focus was on the road, Newt started tapping the steering wheel. There was no rhythm to it, and every so often his lips would twitch, as though he was muttering to himself, but completely unaware. Hermann tried to clear his throat to catch his attention, but Newt was too engrossed in his own thoughts.

“Are you going to share the cause of this latest… annoyance? It seems to have been perturbing you for most of the evening.”

“What?” asked Newt, glancing at Hermann, then back to the road. “Oh…”

He stopped tapping, and heaved a sigh. But he didn’t reply immediately, weighing his thoughts.

“Envy,” he said at last.

Hermann raised his eyebrows.

“I see.”

“No, yeah, that’s good, right? See, I remember these things, that whole sin thing and being annoying. I’m getting better at it, too, though. I wasn’t going to say anything, you know, I was just going to, what was it that you said? Reflect on it. Quietly. I guess I wasn’t doing a very good job.”

“Did you want to … talk about it?”

“No. Not really,” he said, “well, yeah. Kind of…”

Hermann waited.

“I mean it’s just - well, it’s just a lot of things. Stupid things,” Newt began carefully, before tumbling headlong into what was on his mind.

“Like why does no one put _us_ on the cover of a magazine? Sure, we’re not Jaeger pilots, but we do our bit, right? So why don’t we get to be the rockstars? But no, oh no! Just shove all the scientists to the back, lock the nerds in a room in the dungeon, don’t let them out. And so then, like, nobody knows who we are, and all you get is stared at for being weird, or stared through like you almost don’t exist. You don’t get any dates that way, you know what I’m saying?”

“I’m not sure if I could help you with that last part,” Hermann said, looking self-consciously at his hands, “but as to fame, well it’s often overblown. Or, as Warhol pointed out, fleeting. You either get a lifetime of yearning for your lost privacy, or you get your fifteen minutes, and then it’s over. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Yeah, right,” said Newt, “like you’ve ever been famous!”

A small smirk crept onto Hermann’s face.

“Shut up!” Newt protested. “You never were!”

“I was,” Hermann said abashedly.

“For what, being the best math genius in your fifth grade class?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I was the first place title holder for the World Stone Skimming Championships three years running.”

“What?” Newt said through a laugh of incredulity. “Like little kids skipping rocks across ponds? No, come on, that’s not even a real thing!”

“I assure you it is. It’s held annually. In Scotland.”

Newt bounced in his seat.

“No shit! So, what, did you have people throwing themselves into your arms, clamouring for your autograph, fainting as you walked by?”

“Please, Newt, there is no need to be sarcastic.”

“Well then come on, what was so bad about it?”

“Nothing, really, except the obligation to have to feel proud to hold the title. And to try to enjoy the attention."

"Uh, Hermann, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I love attention."

"Perhaps until you have a group of students dragging you down to the river every chance they get, or getting fan mail from nine-year-olds about how one day they want to be like you, and ninety-year-olds going on and on about how they were once like you. And having to pretend you care.

"And, in the end, to be honest, the entire experience was quite anticlimactic. I had been practising for years, and it all came down to whether or not on that day at that time everything worked out the way it should. And it did.

“Honestly, I started to feel like a bit of a fraud."

"For winning at skipping stones? I can see that."

Hermann ignored him.

"They say to have patience, for all things will come in their own time."

“Right. So one day I’ll wake up a superstar.”

“Or one day you will wake up and realize that everything you have ever done has been worthwhile.”

“Deep.”

“No need for sarcasm.”

“No, really. That’s wasn’t sarcasm. It’s true. You’re pretty philosophical sometimes.”

“I was under the impression that most people considered me old and cantankerous.”

“Well,” Newt said with a smirk, “you’re not old…”

They turned into a pitch black parking lot cleared of snow and pulled up in front of a small cabin. When Newt turned off the engine, there was no sound except a high pitched ringing in their ears. He peered out the windshield through the trees which he could just barely make out in the dark.

“Feels like a horror movie, doesn’t it?”

He put out his elbow for Hermann, moving slowly to where they could see the outline of a picnic table just past the cabin. They kept their eyes on the ground for obstacles, and finally let out a sigh when they sat on top of the table.

Newt looked up to the sky said nothing. Hermann let his breath out, and it spiralled up in a wispy cloud in the cold.

"Well? What do you think?"

The moonless sky shone with an uninterrupted veil of stars, more than it seemed capable of holding. Across the top stretched the Milky Way, a brilliant rip in a strip of glimmering light made up of pinpoints of diamonds.

Hermann looked at Newt nervously, rapidly losing heart.

“You’re disappointed, I can tell.”

“Are you kidding?” he breathed. “This is amazing. It's unbelievable. Incredible. I didn’t think you could find places where the sky really looked like this anymore.”

Hermann allowed himself a smile.

“I’m glad you think it was worth it.”

Newt’s speechlessness was wearing off, and his awe was turning into excitement.

“So worth it, so worth it!” he said, pointing at the sky. “Look, look, look! I mean, just look at everything you can see! I’ve - I’ve never actually seen the Milky Way. And - and look at the Orion Nebula! It’s like little pinpoints of light, not just a blur!

“And wait!” he said, searching the sky, “Capricorn… Wow. I know, I know, I shouldn’t be worried about my own astrological star sign, but tell that to ten year-old me...”

“The next time I see him, I’ll tell him.”

“Ha ha. But look! You can see Oculus! Wow… Just, wow. I’ve never seen that from the city. I can’t believe I can actually see it without a telescope or binoculars.”

Newt carried on and on, pointing out stars he’d never seen, Hermann interjecting every so often, pointing out others. When they ran out of things to point to, they simply sat in silence, gazing. Newt knocked his boots together to bring some feeling back to his feet, and blew into his gloves to keep his hands warm, but neither of them made a move to leave.

“You know,” Newt mused, “you kind of feel small sitting under so many stars. But it’s not the same kind of small you feel when you compare yourself to other people. In the end, none of it seems to matter, especially when there’s such beauty in the world.”

And they sat and enjoyed it until their parkas couldn’t hold their heat anymore, and they reluctantly made their way back to the car.


	7. Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For wrath, kindness._

It may have been January, and raining, but there was nothing cold about Hong Kong. Hermann was somewhat embarrassed that the only jacket he had was his parka from Anchorage, but he would be damned if he was going to get himself wet.

Their equipment followed them slowly into the new lab. It was slightly smaller than what they had been used to, so they were forced to work more intimately. They hadn’t thought it would be a problem; they felt more comfortable working with each other than ever before. The fact that they were the last outpost, and the last PPDC K-Science team, gave them a renewed sense of partnership, a stronger purpose, and invigorated their collaboration.

But knowing that their one Shatterdome, and the relative handful of people working in it, was the last defence humanity was allowed to have also lent an immense pressure to their work. Predictions needed more than ever to be sound, information to be relevant. Hermann was under the impression that Newt was trying to aggravate him more often than usual; Newt thought Hermann was being even more nitpicky than usual. Just when they had started to wonder if they truly found one another so intolerable or if their entire friendship was a sham, they took a step back and realized that most of their bickering was due to the stress of worrying that any miscalculation would be devastating.

So they stopped and took a moment and stood quietly in front of each other and apologized, and all was forgiven, and they returned to normal.

Until Newt put out his idea that shattered their truce.

“Why does nobody see it?” he asked Hermann, who was pretending not to listen. “Drifting with a kaiju! I mean, why can nobody see how fucking brilliant that is?”

Hermann grimaced, bit his lip, and stayed silent. Newt took the silence as an invitation.

“Intelligence, right?! You want a quote? I’ve got one for you, the Art of War: ‘To know your enemy you must become your enemy.’ That’s amazing, right? I mean we have the technology to literally become our enemies - and I’ve got the brain right here to do it with.”

Lovingly, Newt rubbed his hand along the glass of the massive tank, gazing fondly at the brain segment inside.

“I know they’re just animals,” he said, “but at least we could figure out what they’re doing, or why they’re doing it, or what we could do to get them to stop. Maybe they’re just - I don’t know - nesting or something!”

Hermann crushed a nib of chalk between his fingers. Newt didn’t stop.

“And - oh! - and then when we figure out what they want and everything’s cool and back to normal, then I can patent the technology and sell it to people to, like, I don’t know, drift with their pets! The mystery of cats - solved!” he said, spreading his hands out in front of him as if he was reading it on a billboard.

In agitation, Hermann finally broke.

“The Marshal said no!” he snapped.

“Oh, and what, now he’s my dad or something?”

“Newton, I know you’re desperate to be right so you’ve not wasted your life being a kaiju groupie, but it’s not going to work.” Hermann didn’t like how flippant he sounded, but perhaps it was what Newt needed to hear in order to get the ridiculously dangerous idea out of his head.

“It _is_ going to work, Hermann,” Newt said, disappointed, trying to regain his confidence, “and I’ll tell you why - fortune favours the brave, dude.”

Hermann prickled with annoyance. “The saying is ‘fortune favours the bold’ - _bold_ , as in thoughtless, reckless, impulsive!”

“You’ve got it wrong - bold as in adventurous- uh… adventurous _ness_ \- and intrepid-idity!” he finished triumphantly.

“ _Stu_ pidity!” Hermann shot at him, making Newt jump. He calmed himself quickly, embarrassed at having betrayed such sharp emotion, and continued nonchalantly, “but they won’t give you the equipment and even if they did you’ll kill yourself”

“Or I’d be a rockstar!”

Hermann had turned to leave, but he spun back around and exploded at Newt.

“Stop it!” he yelled, quivering. “Don’t make light of this!”

“You’re paranoid,” Newt said with a dismissive wave, “pilots drift all the time. Besides, it’s a fraction of a brain - it’ll burn out probably before I get anything from it anyway.”

Hermann was out of words. He breathed heavily, chewed his cheeks, hand clenching and unclenching on the the head of his cane. He searched Newt’s eyes, trying to implore him without words. Finally, he looked down and his shoulders slumped. At a loss, he simply walked away.

It was only when he pushed open the door to the lab the next morning that he remembered the conversation again. He hadn’t given it a moment’s thought the night before that Newt was in the lab even after he himself had left around ten. It wasn’t uncommon for one or the other of them to hold odd hours, tied to an idea or an experiment. Nor was it a strange sight to see the lights on in the lab, or equipment left lying helter-skelter the next morning, but there usually wasn't anyone there along with the mess.

Hermann had felt Newt’s presence before he saw him, and started muttering to himself about sleeping in the lab, and then about general idiocy when he saw the cables draped over the edge of the glass tank with the kaiju brain, now punctured with diodes.

“Told him it wouldn’t work…” he said to himself as he tapped out an annoyed pace with his cane.

His muttering stopped the moment he saw Newt, crumpled on the ground, shaking uncontrollably, hooked up to his makeshift equipment. He stumbled over his own feet to get to him.

“Newton, what have you done?” he cried as he dropped down beside him, fumbling to disconnect him from the machine that he had hastily cobbled together the night before.

Newt couldn’t form words, and Hermann couldn’t form any other thought except that he needed to get help, but what good would anyone else do when this had never been done before? So he just held him, willing him to be all right, stroking his sweat-dampened hair, hoping Newt wouldn’t remember him doing it. He could hear his own pulse throbbing through his head, could feel his heart sitting in his throat, and he pulled Newt in closer to him grateful beyond all words that he was still alive.

“T - t - too much,” Newt stuttered, able to speak again, and Hermann released his hold slightly, “won’t stop - so many, all - all at once…”

Hermann shushed him gently.

“Slow down,” he said, “what did you see?”

“All of them, all of them together…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He moved Newt into a chair, leaning on him as much as he was being leaned on, handed him a glass of water, and hovered over him uselessly. Newt sat, jiggling his leg, looking at the glass of water, clenching and extending the fingers on his free hand as if he’d hadn’t used it forever, running his hand through his hair, and, Hermann noticed, looking anywhere but at him. Hermann frowned. Then it struck him, the proper procedure for the sort of information Newt had somewhere in his brain would be to bring it to the Marshal. He barely noticed the pain in his legs as he rushed to the LOCCENT. The seriousness of Newt’s situation drew the Marshal away from his duties, though Hermann was appreciative of his sacrifice, and that he slowed his pace somewhat as they hurried back to the science lab.

Hermann was less appreciative of the information that Newt, once he had focussed, was able to share. It shocked him, angered him, disturbed him. He needed none of it, and he lost his temper, and yelled at Newt and was silenced by the Marshal, and was then suddenly embarrassed by everything: for having broken protocol, for myriad other reasons that were assailing him, all of it vanished as vain selfishness as he remembered that, had he not found Newt when he had, this scene would have been unfathomably different. So he shut up and pretended that none of it had happened, and that he didn’t care that Newt was being asked to drift again with a kaiju, and tried to remember duty, and the greater good, and not feel the dread that was threatening to overwhelm him.

And then they were left alone, Newt with his task, Hermann with his own, and Hermann didn’t know what to say. He watched Newt pace around the lab restively, grabbing things, shoving them into his pockets, stopping, taking them out and putting them down again. Hermann knew he was avoiding him entirely, not even looking in his direction.

“Was it something I did?” he asked when Newt had finally stopped, befuddled by a vial he had picked up off his desk.

Newt looked up at him, stared for an uncomprehending moment, then focussed his attention again on the vial in his hand.

Hermann frowned, searching for something to say that would help, that might get Newt to say anything.

“You’ve done it, you know,” he told him. “When people find out, you’ll be famous - renowned. You will be, as you would put it, a ‘rockstar.’”

“Yeah,” Newt said. There was no cadence to his voice: it was a mere syllable, lacking all expression.

“You should be happier,” Hermann ventured.

“Don’t start,” Newt sniped.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to…”

Hermann let the unfinished sentiment fade into silence.

“Did you…” he tried again.

“Did I what?” snapped Newt.

“Did… do you want to talk about it?

Newt shrugged and muttered.

“Nothing to talk about. You were right.”

Hermann raised his eyebrows.

“You’re not going to say how great that is?” Newt needled him.

“No…” Hermann said sheepishly, ashamed that, under other circumstances, had he not had the shock of his life that morning, had he not for even that one moment thought that he had lost Newt forever, then, yes, he realized, he would have responded in just that way, he would have lorded it over him. He twisted his cane on the ground, head bowed.

“Stop looking so guilty!” Newt shouted at him, making Hermann wince. “You’ve been right all along! I’ve wasted my life being some stupid ‘kaiju groupie’ - you were right!! Enjoy it!”

“I’m sorry I said that,” Hermann murmured, “I truly am.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” said Newt, clenching the vial in his fist so hard that Hermann held his breath, afraid it would break. He jumped when Newt smashed it violently on the floor.

“Anger, right?!” Newt yelled, livid and fuming. “Wrath! The worst one, isn’t it? The sin of Satan himself, the one that leads to hatred, to murder, to the worst traits of humankind. Well here it is! I’m guilty of it, I’ve got it written all over me. I hate the things that I loved, I despise the monsters that everyone except me was right about - there’s nothing to be excited about anymore, and there’s nothing I can do!

“And you know why? Because there’s only one way to work against hate, and that’s with kindness,” he said with such vehemence and sarcasm that Hermann cringed, “and that’s supposed to be all we have left in the end, love and kindness, ‘love thine enemy’ or some shit, right? I’ve been defending them for what feels like most of my life, and now? How can you be kind to something that was made to destroy you completely?”

Hermann felt Newt’s despair as if it was his own, and wished he could ease the burden of it. But he had no answer to give, and it killed him to see Newt so drained. All he could do was move next to him and lay a hand silently on his arm.


	8. Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For lust..._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (profuse apologies for the gap in posting! thank you for sticking with this, and I hope this last chapter doesn't disappoint :))

Closeness. Togetherness. Oneness.

It’s what they said the drift left you with. They didn’t play up the part about the suddenly-too-much-and-then suddenly-not-enough intimacy. They didn't prepare you for the paranoia (what did they think about what they saw?), the dissociation (when did I do that? oh right, that wasn't me...) or the loneliness (how can I miss you when you're right across the room from me?). Maybe it was something they dealt with in training - after all, the process wasn’t intended for civilians.

So, days after the breach had collapsed and the routine of work had started to replace the merrymaking, the giddiness of their seemingly improbable drift had given way to paranoia. Embarrassment at having at having seen too much, and the instinct to pretend it hadn’t happened, had Hermann and Newt orbiting distantly around each other in the lab.

Until, inevitably, the gravity of their attraction forced their paths to collide. They both reached for the hole punch at the same time, Hermann a mere fraction of an instant before Newt. For a moment, neither of them dared move, staring at their hands like butterflies on a flower. Newt raised his eyes, barely breathing, and curled his fingers around Hermann’s. It was too much, and Hermann jerked his hand away, waving Newt off, muttering “No, no…” in a panic as he took a few steps back, then turned and hurried from the lab.

Newt sighed. He let Hermann get a head start, still in surprise and awe that he could remember exactly what it felt like to walk the way he did, feel the different way his legs responded, know all the things he had never known about the challenges the world presented to someone living with cerebral palsy. Newt hesitated another moment before following him, at a measured pace, to his room. He stopped at the vault-like metal door, hand raised to knock. Instead, seeing it was ajar, he pushed it open, pressing it closed behind him, the loud clang and electronic click familiar but intrusive.

“Sorry,” he said.

Hermann didn’t look up. He sat on his bed, gripping the edge as if he would fall off. His cane leaned haphazardly against the wall, but the crisp white sheets were tucked in at the corners with military precision. Newt took a step closer, and Hermann turned away. For a moment, Newt hesitated, weighed his options, almost turned and fled.

But he didn’t. He walked over to the bed, somehow, even though his feet felt like lead and his heart was pounding in his throat and beating in his head as if it wanted to escape from his skull. Standing in front of Hermann he felt cornered, even though he had followed him here, even though he was the one who was free to leave whenever he wanted. But he didn’t. He’d rarely been so close to Hermann, had never noticed the precise natural curve of his eyebrow. It seemed simultaneously like the most beautiful and the stupidest thought he’d ever had. Suddenly he became aware of Hermann’s quick, sharp breathing. Without hesitation he ran his fingertips over Hermann’s perfect eyebrow, trailed them down his cheek, and gently tilted up his chin. Hermann searched his eyes in a daze, bunching the front of Newt’s shirt in his fists and pulling him closer.

“Lust - ” Newt whispered into Hermann’s ear.

“Chastity,” he replied.

Newt sighed, scolding himself and started to back away. “I was hoping you weren’t going to say that.”

“Chastity be damned.”

Newt grinned as Hermann pulled him back closer.

“I was hoping you _were_ going to say that.”

He barely had time to get all the words out before toppling onto Hermann, a kiss, at first, clammy, awkward, unexpected. But it only took a moment of wordless conversation by touch for their lips to find warmth, and melt into softness. As it deepened, their breathing did the same, until they were pressed together, no space between them, inhaling each other with every breath, panting when their lips parted to breathe.

Newt pressed his palms up Hermann’s sides, eliciting a gasp and a shudder as he reached the slight curve of his waist. It fed back into his own desire, and he fumbled to take off his tie. Hermann watched him, eyes heavy, mouth just slightly open, flushed with yearning. He pulled Newt back on top of him, his hands back at his waist, his lips full and warm as his tongue glided silkily over them. Trying to get closer, Newt tugged at Hermann's shirt, but gave up, and made to undo a button instead.

All of a sudden, Hermann tensed and pushed Newt away with one hand, while clutching unwillingly at his shirtfront with the other. It had been one split second from arousal to panic, and Newt was lost.

"What? What did I do?"

Hermann couldn't speak, could only shake his head, looking away, trying to release Newt's shirt, unable to let go. It was impossible for him to form words, and Newt panicked for moment internally before it struck him that two hysterical people would be much worse than one. He took a deep breath and ran his hands gently along Hermann's arm trying to help him relax. It was a moment before Hermann calmed his breathing, Newt reassuring him with hushes and gentle words.

"Was it something I did?" he asked, but Hermann could do no more than shake his head vaguely and look away, pressing his eyes shut as his hand tensed up a bit more. Newt told him it was okay and went back to stroking his arm. He bit his lip, covering Hermann's hand lightly, afraid to ask too many questions, in case he didn't like the answer.

"Did you want this?" he tried, and breathed a sigh of relief when Hermann nodded. He had been worried that he had misread what they had shared in the drift, and it scared him to an irrational degree. Knowing that wasn't what was worrying Hermann made him less apprehensive. But still not knowing was not helping. He tried again.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, and Hermann shook his head. His hand was starting to relax beneath Newt's, but it still seemed like he wasn't fully in control.

"Is it just me?" Newt said, sad and scared that he might get an answer that would shock him. He let himself breathe again when Hermann, eyes still closed, shook his head forcefully.

"Did I do something wrong?"

The answer was still no. A grin crept onto Newt's face.

"Did I do something right?"

Hermann finally opened his eyes, looking up at Newt bemusedly at first. Then he smirked and nearly laughed. Just a moment later, his happiness eroded as quickly as it had come.

"You know the saying," he said with a sigh, "that it's not you, it's me? That would apply here."

"I don't get it," said Newt.

"It's just that this," he said motioning between them as he was finally able to remove his hand from Newt's shirt, "has never gone well."

Newt raised his eyebrows as he understood what Hermann was saying.

"Well then," he said with a wry smile, "time to start making it work."

Hermann looked at him as though he'd just come up with a three-line proof for Goldbach's conjecture. Newt returned him a quizzical look.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Just - no one has ever said that before."

"Are you kidding me?"

Hermann shook his head.

"So, what, you've always just assumed something worked out or it didn't?"

Hermann shrugged.

"Okay, we'll work on that. But first: you didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Did I do something right?"

As he let out a soft laugh, Hermann blushed, making Newt raise an eyebrow.

"Are you going to make me guess?"

In response, Hermann laid his hands on Newt’s cheeks, pulling him back into a kiss, guiding his hands to where they had been at his waist. Quickly, Newt lost himself in in the rush of desire, and Hermann writhed beneath him, splaying his hands over his back, making small whimpering noises that embarrassed him and that he tried his best to hide and that Newt wished he wouldn’t. Through everything, Newt managed to unbutton his own shirt, even if he's couldn't get it off his shoulders before pressing his chest against Hermann's and delving back into their kiss. He slid his hands under Hermann's clothes and stuttered in a breath of elation as he felt his bare skin. Hermann ran his hands through Newt's hair, happily surprised at having elicited such a reaction.

Everything came to a sudden halt as Newt made to undo Hermann's collar again. Instead of pushing him away, he simply took hold of Newt's hand and asked him to stop, which he did.

Hermann blinked and eyed Newt warily.

“You stopped.”

“You asked me to…” Newt said, baffled.

A memory surfaced unbidden, of not being taken seriously, of being laughed at, and Newt could feel that it wasn’t his own.

“Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes,” Hermann said sharply, then softened it with: “please.”

Sitting up, he began to undo his own buttons, maneuvering his fingers awkwardly as he tried to find the buttonhole. Newt jumped in without a second thought.

“Don’t.”

“It looks like you could use some help.”

“No,” Hermann said firmly, a bit harshly, “I’d rather not.”

As Newt watched him do it himself, a shared memory unrolled in his mind: being helped without being asked, reddening from embarrassment, the other person hardly noticing. Newt felt himself blush for almost doing the same. With concentration and determination, Hermann took the same amount of time on each of the top three buttons before pulling the shirt, along with his sweater over his head, hands slipping easily out of the cuffs done up loosely on the outside button. He folded it neatly, and turned back diffidently, his arms covering his bare chest. Newt shrugged off his own shirt to even things out, but when Hermann still demured, he rested his finger gently on his wrist. After a moment, he heaved a sigh.

“More than a couple of relationships have fallen apart because of what I couldn't do.”

“Like what?” Newt asked incredulously. Hermann shifted uncomfortably.

“Um... well, such as… uh…”

“Okay, no, that was a stupid question - I take it back!” Newt said shaking his head and putting his hands lightly on Hermann’s cheeks. “It doesn’t matter what. That’s so far from the point. You know where we’re going to start? We're going to start with what you can do.”

Newt could see the tension fall off of Hermann’s shoulders.

“We can even make a list if you like.”

A smile crept onto Hermann’s face.

“Okay, that’s good,” Newt said, smiling back. “So we’ve got a sense of humour. That’s one for the list.”

They kissed, and Hermann let out a contented sound.

“That's another.”

Newt stopped talking as he pressed his lips along Hermann’s neck, trailed his hands over his chest, along his sides, under his back. Their embrace was warm with gentle affection, and they melded together smoothly.

It was Hermann who broke the silence that was ruffled only by their breathing.

"I’m sorry."

"You haven’t done anything."

"I will."

The self deprecation made Newt uncomfortable, but he didn't know what to say. Hermann continued.

"I stopped dating because of it. The CP. The things that had happened, the things I’d done."

"Hermann, don’t worry," Newt reassured him. "You don’t have to talk about that stuff.”

He nuzzled Hermann, and was nuzzled back, but with some hesitation.

"Unless, oh man, I can be so clueless sometimes! Unless you want to talk about it?"

"No, it’s ridiculous."

"No, really, it’s not! I talk all the time - "

"I know..."

"... and it helps me think about things better, get a second opinion or hear it out loud. So really you should talk about it. I mean, if you want to."

It was the first time Hermann had told anyone, and the effort it took to do so was evident on his face, but he persevered.

"I had a spasm," he said simply.

"Well, that happens sometimes, right?"

"I kneed her in the breast."

Despite himself, Newt cringed at the same time he let out a sharp laugh, immediately covering his mouth with his hand.

“Please don’t don’t laugh,” said Hermann, looking away and turning red. “I had told her something like that could happen. I was mortified it had chosen to manifest itself that way.”

“I’m sorry for laughing - it must have been horrible. It’s just - come on, you both must have looked back on it and laughed?”

“No.”

“No? Then what did she do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing, with me, ever again.”

Newt sat bolt upright, unable to fathom the situation.

“What?”

Hermann sighed and closed his eyes.

“I don’t even know what she thought - that I had done it on purpose?”

Any amusement that Newt had felt evaporated into speechlessness.

“It gets better,” Hermann said with slight disdain, “or, perhaps, worse. But… It’s just… I can’t say it.”

“It’s all right,” Newt said, jumping in quickly, “you don’t have to.”

“But I want to,” Hermann emphasized. “It’s just difficult.”

He paused for a long moment, Newt giving him the time and space he needed.

“I had a boyfriend who had said he… Well, that is, he knew I received injections for the tightness in my hand. And he knew it had to keep doing it, but... He asked - he said to just let it wear off once because he wanted me to… grip him. As hard as I could…”

Newt couldn’t say anything. There were so many things that were vague memories that had been in the mix of things floating to the surface of his consciousness over the previous few days, and one associated itself with Hermann’s story. Of being a teenager and being stubborn and not wanting to go to therapy when he had better things to do, had studying that needed to get done, and only finally telling his mother, mortified, that he had been flexing his hand so hard that his nails had dug into his palm and he was bleeding. And then to have someone treat it lasciviously...

“It just made me - it still makes me - so horrifically embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?! They’re the ones who should be embarrassed!”

“Oh, they were. But they were embarrassed _for_ me. I fell down on a date once - she was horribly embarrassed. Which is ironic, because she was also embarrassed when I used my cane. I think I just gave up after that.”

Hermann closed his eyes and sighed, but Newt could feel his heart beating nervously where he had laid his head on his chest. He rubbed Hermann’s sides to try to calm him.

“It was just like school - I was made to feel either like a burden... or a joke.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that crap. If I ever do anything like that - “

“You haven’t.”

“But if I ever do, you can… wow, I don’t even know. Just, like, leave me.”

“Thank you.”

Stroking Hermann’s arm, Newt noticed for the first time what he had said, _leave me,_ speaking to him as if this whole situation had somehow already been validated, that this intimacy was inevitable, comfortable, almost ordinary. He smiled and enjoyed it.

“However, you haven’t so far,” Hermann said, interrupting Newt’s thoughts, and it took him a moment to trace back the conversation. “I trust you. I believe what we managed to do, to drift together, so..." he reached for a word, "effortlessly, proved that.”

Newt nuzzled his neck eliciting an approving murmur

"Besides that, there are the admirable qualities you've already demonstrated: patience, kindness, humility, charity..."

"Diligence," Newt added.

"How?"

"It’s been more than half a decade since I’ve been trying to live up to your ‘seven sins’ challenge, you know..."

“It wasn’t a challenge,” Hermann said, “it was an exercise in reflection. You did exemplary well. In the end, you were not as annoying as sin.”

“Gee, thanks. You know Jews aren’t really preoccupied with the idea of cardinal sins and penance, right? It’s more of a Catholic thing. Not that we’ve foregone the guilt, mind you! Oh, and... ‘annoying as sin’ - you know that’s not really a saying in English, don’t you?

It seemed Hermann did not, and he stared at Newt agape.

“Why on Earth did you let me do that, then?”

Newt shrugged.

“I don’t know - I guess as first I felt I had something to prove to you - you seemed very convinced of the whole idea. And after that, I don’t know… I just wanted to do it... for you.”

“That’s… really very nice…” Hermann said, completely genuine, making Newt turn red.

“There’s still that pesky chastity we have to take care of, though.”

“Can we really call this lust?”

“Well,” Newt said as he let a hand wander to the waist of Hermann’s pants, “I’d kind of like to…”

The night wore on, and the skylight in the metal ceiling lost its light. And even though the stars were impossible to see under the clouds, it was enough to know they were still there, in the billions, carrying on to infinity.


End file.
